Title: Enemies, Blood, & Hidden Agendas (pt. 1)
Author: Empress
Email: Empress@thewaysideinn.net
Distribution: Empress' Private Library and The Wayside Inn  All others ask first.
Rating:  Rated X - for a sex scene!  And it's a doozy!  Yay!
Category:  Number 14 in the Behind the Scenes series.  Follows #13 Man of Steel.
Characters:  Hunter/Nan; Hurricane/Tina; Y2J/Rosie; Red/Ellie Elliott; Randy Orton; Ric Flair; Stacy Kiebler; Dixie the Wonder Wiener Dog (in pt. 2) and yet even more OFCs.
Spoilers:  None, unless you're also ten-plus weeks behind like I am!  Takes place on August 10, after RAW of 08/09/04.  Yes, we're skipping some stuff…but flashbacks will make up for most of it.
Warnings:  Angst, a ridiculous amount of flashbacks, gambling, sex, foul language (surprise - not), violence including weaponry, and more drama than I should probably try to fit into one chapter - even divided - but what the hell.
Summary: I hate writing 'em…but you want 'em…so here ya go.  Nan and Hunter both get an ass-kicker of a wake-up call, which prompts a whole passel of angst and drama for them both, as well as for those that love them. 
Author's Notes: This is part one of a very long chapter.  Part two will follow shortly.  I hope.
Author's Notes The Sequel: Once again numbering:
1.       This one's what I call a 'loose-end weaver.'   Meaning, that I re-weave loose ends back into the main plot line.  Answer a few open-ended questions; tuck in some dangling participles.  That sort of stuff.  Okay, okay.  Moving right along.
2.       I'm taking creative license with Hurricane's current story line - well, current as of early August.  Hey, he really doesn't have a descent story line, so I'm sorta working on giving him one.
3.       If ya don't believe that grown men can almost get into a fist fight in a hospital waiting room, then you need to check out triage on any given Friday or Saturday night in my hometown.  Scary.  It's almost as bad as the freaks that show up in Wal-Mart at around 11 p.m. on Christmas Eve.  <Shudders>
4.       And I'm taking major creative license with Nan's injuries.  If I did to her what I originally wanted to do to her, well, she'd die.  And I really don't think anyone wants that right now, do you?
Feedback: Always.
Disclaimer: Not mine - theirs.  Some are mine and I'm keeping those.  No money made.  Couldn't come up with any witty repartee this time either.  But I would like to share that I've got a new source of deviltry to inspire me, now sitting on my desk, right in front of my monitor.  I got one of the cutest presents for my birthday that I can ever remember receiving.  It's a Stitch plushy (as in Lilo and Stitch) dressed up for Halloween in a Maleficent costume!  Many thanks, Big Guy…and you know who you are.  On with the show.

And it's like, every time I turn around
I fall in love and find my heart face down and
Where it lands is where it should
This time it's like
The two of us should probably start to fight
Coz something's gotta go wrong
Coz I'm feeling way to damn good, oh
Feelin' way too damn good
       Feelin' Too Damn Good - Nickleback

August 10, 2004 - 1:18 p.m.
Stamford Memorial Hospital - Stamford, CT 

This couldn't be happening.  Not now.  Not when they'd finally seemed to straighten things out between them.  She'd just come home a couple of weeks ago.  Everything had been going so well.

And now this.

She looked over to where Hunter was currently wearing a path into the tiled floor.  He looked horrible.  His dress pants were wrinkled beyond belief, his coat long gone, shirtsleeves rolled up, and his silk tied loosened and askew.  He continually ran a big hand through his hair and down to scratch at his chin.  Then he'd repeat the process.  He couldn't sit still for longer than ten to fifteen minutes at a time.  And even when he did, some part of him was still in constant motion.  Jiggling keys in his pants pocket.  Drumming his fingers on the vinyl chairs.  Cracking his knuckles.  Tapping his foot.  Something.

It was nerve-wracking.

But no one dared say a word to him, fearful of an explosion.  His eyes burned like two hot coals in a too pale, too pinched face.  And worry lines cut deep around his mouth and that burning gaze.

He was scared.

And Triple H scared was not a good thing.

But she was scared too.  She looked around at the faces surrounding her.  All of them were.  A few of the faces still looked a little shell-shocked over the near-fight they'd all just witnessed.  But even that was fading in hours of waiting stretching ahead of them.

She shook her head, thinking back on the earlier altercation, never daring to believe that he'd even threaten to throw out those two men.  But he had.  And it had shocked them all into an uneasy silence.

He was making her tired just watching him pace.

Finally she couldn't take it any more.  She'd been sitting there, for nearly two hours without moving, other than the steady punch and draw of her needle through the fabric stretched taught between the two rings of her wooden hoop.  Her back and legs were screaming in protest at the hard chair.  With measured motions, she folded her needlepoint up, taking care to tuck the loose strings under the cloth.  She slipped her work down into the small tote bag that had become her signature accessory in the past few years.  Standing up, she picked up her large purse, stretched and walked leisurely towards Hunter, until she stood in the path of his incessant pacing.

He stopped short, just shy of plowing into her.  "You leaving?"

She couldn't be sure, but she thought she heard just a trace of accusation in his mildly asked question.  "No," she whispered quietly with a small smile.  "Need to stretch my legs.  I figured I get something to drink.  You want something?  I'm taking orders."

Hunter shook his head.  "Nah.  No thanks."

"Hunter, we've been here since eleven this morning.  You've not had anything to eat or drink since we showed up.  And I know you well enough to know you didn't eat on the plane either.  She wouldn't want you to…"

"Don't," he held up his hand with a low snarl, his upper lip curling back.  "Don't try and… mother…me."

She met his anger head on, without flinching.  Slowly, she raised her own hand and placed it so her palm was flat against his.  Deliberately she threaded her fingers through his and curled them down over the back of his hand.  Without breaking his gaze, she waited.

He just stared at her for a minute, then curled his hand around hers.  His whisper, when it came, was so full of pain that it brought tears to her eyes.  "I can't lose her now."

She took a step forward, and wrapped her free arm around his waist and laid her cheek against his shoulder.  "You won't."

Hunter let go of her hand only long enough to wrap both arms around her in a bear hug.  "I didn't mean to snap at you.  I'm just…"

"Scared," she finished for him as he let her go.  "It's okay to admit it, you know.  No one here will think less of you."

"I wouldn't be so sure of that."

"All right, fine.  Maybe they will.  But they won't say anything, about it.  Because if they do, then they'll have to deal with me.  And trust me, none of the people in this room want to deal with me."  At his amused chuckle and nod, she continued.  "Hunter, you know I love you.  But you've got the worst Titan complex I've ever seen.  You're not larger than life.  You're not some invulnerable legendary mythological being.  You're human just like the rest of us.  And she'll be okay."

"You really believe that, don't you?"

"Of course," she answered with a quirky half-sideways smile.

"You have more faith than I do," he commented absently.

"I always have, Hunter."  She gave him an oddly secretive grin.  "Now, about that drink.  And maybe something to eat?"

Hunter smiled, somewhat sheepishly.  "A protein bar and some water would be great, thanks."

"You got it."  She leaned up, and pressed a gentle kiss to his cheek.  "Be back in a few."  She almost made it out of the room before he called out to her.

"Mom?"

She stopped, and fixed him with an unwavering stare.  "Yes, honey?"

He grinned at the endearment, but it faded quickly.  "You're not worried at all, are you?"

Her pale blue eyes softened and Eleanor Elliott, Nan's mother, smiled at him.  "That's my baby fighting for her life in that operating room, Hunter.  Now what do you think?"

She turned and left the waiting room.  But her steps slowed a bit as he called after her.  "Apparently, I'm not the only one with a Titan complex."

Ellie continued on her way, with a quiet, "In this family, I have to have the strength of a Titan, just to survive."  With a small smile, she whispered a soft prayer for her daughter's young man, as well as for her daughter. 

~<>~

I may be a real bad boy
But baby I'm a real good man
I might have a reckless streak
At least a country mile wide
If you're gonna run with me
It's gonna be a wild ride
When it comes to lovin' you
I've got velvet hands
I'll show you how a real bad boy
Can be a real good man
       Real Good Man - Tim McGraw

July 27, 2004 5:26 a.m.
The Omni Hotel - Room 217 - Pittsburgh, PA 

He wasn't an early riser.  Well, the majority of him wasn't.  However, this morning one part of him was not only an early riser, but it was fully awake, ready, and raring to go.  And evidently it wasn't alone, because someone else had answered that particular wake-up call.

Without opening his eyes, he could tell the bedside light had been turned on.  He smiled lazily, a deep sigh rumbling in his chest, and whispered a gruff, "Good morning to you too."

His only answer was a deep, evil sounding chuckle, the vibrations of which made his eyes roll backwards in his head.  This wasn't the first time she'd woken him this way.  Hell, the first time she'd done it, he'd thought he was gonna die.  He'd woken slowly to find a very sensitive part of his anatomy engulfed completely in the hottest, wettest suction he'd ever felt in his life. 

He slept a lot lighter back then, still not used to sharing a bed with her.  Well, not used to sharing a bed with someone who didn't push him away in the night.  She didn't.  She practically wrapped herself around him instead.  And although he didn't admit it, he liked it that she cuddled up to him in her sleep.  It was nice.  Comforting.  Secure.  Either way, he'd slept lightly for their first few nights together, whenever he'd visit her between shows. 

So when she bathed his nipples with her tongue in short, firm licks, then suckled and lightly scraped them with her teeth, he groaned and immediately the sensations were incorporated into his dreams.  When she later slid down his body, trailing her fingers across the muscle ridges of his abdomen, moving lower still until he could feel her breath at his navel, he stirred, wakening a bit, but still in that 'in between' space that separated sleep from consciousness.  When she pressed her cheek against his hip, his eyes fluttered open.  But when she took him into her mouth, still soft, and began to suck, gently at first, then increasingly harder as his length and thickness grew, he was absolutely positive his brains were dribbling out of his ears.

After that first time, he'd shoot to full wakefulness the moment her tongue touched his skin, anywhere.  Yet, he always kept his eyes closed, content to let her do as she liked, since normally, she wasn't the aggressor in their bed.  Besides, that tongue of hers reduced him to a blithering idiot in mere minutes.  And God, but he loved it!

However, this morning, due to last night's chair shot to the head, he was sure, he literally slept through most of her sensual torture.  He woke only once he was at full erection and hard enough to hammer nails.  This morning, though, she wasn't touching his cock.  Not directly anyway.  But every time she did touch him, another bolt of fire raced through his veins. 

She was kissing the insides of his thighs, darting that devilish tongue out, and licking wherever she kissed.  Every few seconds, she'd scrape her fingernails, now longer since he'd asked her to grow them out for him, through the thick thatch of blonde curls at the base of his cock.  She'd found out he liked longer nails on her because he liked their sting.  So she took care that she scratched the skin beneath the curls just hard enough to stimulate and make him hiss through clenched teeth.

She shifted her position, making a small noise of discomfort.  That faint sound was enough to get his attention.  With supreme effort, he peeled his eyes open and lifted his head scant inches of the pillow.  The sight of her head bent over his lap, her hair draped across his thighs made his voice crack unexpectedly, going higher in pitch for a moment.

"Be careful," he cleared his throat and his voice dropped back down.  "Be careful of your ankle.  No…pressure…remember?"

She lifted her head, fixing him with a wicked grin.  "Hunter?"  Her voice was thick, deep, and of a timbre that made him groan, his erection twitching involuntarily.

"Yeah baby," he panted. 

"Shut up."

Locking gazes with her, he saw her eyes darken and an evil smile curled her lips.  He knew that look.  He was a dead man.  Nan leaned back over his hips, flattened her tongue, and slowly ran it up the under-side of his cock in a leisurely, languid lick, wringing another moan out of him. 

His head hit the pillow with a soft hiss.  He answered with a happy sigh, as she took him between her lips, sucking gently on the head, "Ooookay."

She laughed. 

Hunter's fingers twisted into fists, ripping at the sheets, as the vibrations from her laughter hardened him even further.  She wrapped one hand around the base of his cock and slid her other hand down, palming his sac, rolling them sensitively between her fingers.  Continuing the sensual caress, she opened mouth and slid her lips down his shaft, centimeters at a time until he felt the head bump against the back of her throat.  She breathed in deeply through her nose and relaxed, allowing him to slide in even further.  Then she hummed.

"Fuck!"  He strained against her hands when she abandoned his sac to press down on his hipbone.  Hunter reached out to entangle his fingers in a handful of hair.  He leaned up, to watch her as her mouth slid up and down the length of him, her hair lashing at his thighs like hot little whips when he thrust his hips in time with her bobbing head.  She stared back at him, her dark eyes flashing as his own eyes grew heavy and filled with a lust so carnal that she couldn't but help to tease the beast she saw lurking behind there.

Keeping her eyes trained on his, she tilted her head sideways, tossing her hair out of her face and began a series of slow, torturous licks up and down the sides of his shaft, twisting her hand around at the base simultaneously.  Every third pass, she'd either run her tongue around the rim of the head of his cock, or all but swallow him whole.  She could feel his muscles trembling under her fingers, and she couldn't help herself.  Very lightly, she ran her fingernails down the insides of his thighs, and across the hypersensitive skin of his sac and perineum, while sucking hard on the crown of his cock.

"Ah, God!" he all but yelled as his hips shot off the mattress again.

She released him with a nasty wet pop.  "Nope.  Just me," she answered with a wicked smile.  "But thanks for the complement."

One second she was grinning at him, teasing his slit with the tip of her tongue, and the next second, she was flat on her back, sideways across the width of the bed with her injured leg hooked under the knee by his hand, and held around his waist.  Almost in a three-count position.

"Oh Huuuunnn-ter," she cried in that same sing-song tone as Chavo Guerrero's opening music and chuckled, adding,  "Pin me, baby!"

"You've got a smart mouth," he growled down at her, his hair hanging on either side of her face, hiding them both in a blonde curtain. 

Curling her fingers into his hair, she grinned,  "And a talented tongue."

"Oh, yeah."  He stared down at her.

She held his gaze, watching his eyes.  The beast was still there, pacing back and forth, but damnit, she wanted him to come out and play.  Feeling reckless, she tipped her head to the side, baring her neck and shifted the leg he didn't hold until she freed it from underneath him and wrapped it around his waist.  Then she tightened her thigh muscles, creating a vice-effect on his middle that she knew he liked, when he liked it rough.

But he didn't rise to the bait.  With a sinister twist to his mouth, he rocked once against her, teasing her as his length pressed against her, but not where she wanted it to go.  She rotated her hips slowly against him.  He rocked again.  But this time with her own hips elevated, his motion dragged down the length of her folds, and right across the sensitive head of her clitoris.  Her eyes widened at the sensation, and she gasped.

Hunter caught the sound as well as it's meaning, and grinned.  He began rocking his hips against her continuously stroking against her clitoris, building a raging fire, and watching her face the entire time.  She arched her head back, her breath coming in short pants.  Her whole body trembled in his arms and a red flush creeped up from her belly, up over her breasts and to her neck.  Just as she felt that pinnacle approach, she removed her fingers from his hair, and curled them over his shoulders, sinking them into his skin just deep enough to sting like he liked, without marking his skin over-much, and pulled them straight down the muscle ridden planes of his back.  Deep enough to sting and turn red, but not to welt or break the skin.

Hunter threw his head back, and hissed loudly, "Fuck, woman!"  But his hips didn't slow one bit.  Didn't even skip a beat.

When he leveled his gaze back on her, his eyes were glowing.  The beast was out and ready to play.  With a happy smile and sigh, she gave in as her orgasm broke over her, riding the waves of sensation, yielding to him completely, convulsing in his arms.

The glint in his eyes was wild, primitive, and dangerous.  But she wasn't afraid.  Not of him.  Never of him.  She trusted him completely.  With her body.  With her mind.  With her heart.

But the dangerous side of him, while it didn't frighten her, did excite her terribly.  Almost as much as when he was being tender.  Did he know that when he unleashed his inner animal that it drove her to the brink of insanity with lust for him?  That the taste and feel of his raw power made her mad with desire, building an ache inside that only he could ease?  And did he also know that when he touched her gently, with love in his yes, and tenderness on his lips that she would give anything to him, do anything for him, should he but hint at it?  She wondered if he really did know that.  He seemed to know everything else about her.  Well, almost everything.  But she was fairly positive she still had a few surprises up her sleeve.

Hunter wrapped the fingers on his free hand, his other still hooked under her knee, around one plump breast, and squeezed, stopping just shy of pain.  "I'm gonna make you scream."

She lifted her hand from his back, threaded her fingers into those silky blonde strands, curled her fingers into a fist, and yanked.  Hard enough to pull his head sideways.  The fire in his eyes blazed up into a roaring inferno as she growled, "Stop teasing and fuck me!"

His lips curled up into a sinister smile that curled her toes.  He hitched her leg a bit higher around his waist.  "Hook it."

His voice was gruff, guttural, and raw with need.  Nodding slightly, she squeezed her thighs around him, careful of that ankle, so he could brace himself on one elbow.  The moment he felt her thighs tighten around his waist, his mouth came down on hers with brutal force.  Her heart pounded fiercely as he cupped his hand behind her neck to hold her head still for him.

She offered no struggle, her fingers relaxing and sliding through his hair.  This kiss was different.  This was more like an invasion, an assault on her senses that was overpowering.  And she reveled in it, savoring the power of his body against hers.  There was no gentleness in him as he held her pinned to the mattress.  His tongue plundered the hot depths of her mouth, leaving her light-headed, her pulse pounding in her ears. 

His hand slid away from her neck and back down to her breast.  Rolling her nipple between his thumb and finger, he knew how it made her feel, how that delicious ache ignited a fire in her belly and between her thighs where his cock lay heavy, hard, and throbbing against her sex.  She was clutching at his shoulders, her nails making light half-moon shaped indentions in his skin.

Suddenly his head bent and his mouth was covering her breast, his tongue tracing erotic patterns over the sensitive peak as she shuddered and clung to him.  "Oh God, Hunter!"

He pulled away to look down into her eyes.  "Tell me you want it.  Tell me."

"I want it," she said feverishly, sliding her palm over his shoulder and down to his chest, running her fingers over his nipples, caressing him. "I want you."

He grinned evilly and rocked his hips against her, still just out of reach.

"Hunter, please!" She wrapped her arms around him, splaying her fingers out against the muscles in his back and thrust up against him, grazing his chest with her breasts, licking her lips.  "Inside me.  I need you inside me, Hunter!"

With a groan, Hunter gave in.  "Jesus!"

She had expected, strangely enough, gentle thrusts at first, like it usually was.  Her eyes rolled back in her head, her mouth falling open in a breathy groan when the first thrust was a full-length push into her, then all the way out, so just the head was in, and then finally all the way back in.

It was an abrasive friction, deep, long, and absolutely wonderful.  Hunter's movements quickened, and low growls began rumbling from deep within his chest.  Rearing up, arching her back to meet the thrusts coming into her rapidly, Nan gave in completely, caring only about the pleasure making her burn like wild-fire.  Her center throbbed with every beat of her heart.  She matched his pace as the urgency grew hotter and higher.

The growling above her got progressively louder with each passing minute.  Then Hunter shifted his hips, angling back over her, burying his face against her neck, his nose in her hair.  He ran his tongue in firm licks across her throat in time with his thrusts.  The change in position meant that the large cock possessing her now rubbed directly over her clitoris on each push into her hot channel.

Nan howled helplessly, quivering with sensation, feeling like she could explode any second.  She didn't, but the pressure kept building and building, until nothing existed in his world but mind-numbing pleasure and the man providing it.

The licks on her neck changed to a bite, and she could no longer keep silent.  "Oh Hunter… oh God, yes!  Please, Hunter…yes!  Yes!"

At the same time as she felt Hunter's already large cock get even larger, and start to throb wildly.  Trying to catch enough of a breath to at least whimper, Nan wiggled against him, rubbing wantonly, trying desperately to get that last bit of stimulation she needed to come. Sensing her need, Hunter ran his hand down her body, sliding his fingers between her folds.

"Scream for me," he growled above her.  His questing fingers found the core of her desire and pinched.

The pinch sent random pulses throughout her body, making her world darken and shimmer at the same time.  And the scream he'd wanted…no ordered…burst from her lips as wave after wave of sensation broke over her.  The high keening wail acted as a stimulant to his release as well.  The rhythm of his breathing and thrusting increased until he gave a final hard thrust and guttural groan.  He held her fiercely, crushing her into the mattress with his full weight.  She felt a harsh throb deep within her, and he went rigid, then was still and heavy atop her as his breathing gradually slowed.

Sluggishly, her thighs relaxed, and her legs slid down his back, and buttocks, then down to the mattress.  Breathing heavily beneath him, she trailed her fingers up and down his spine.  Hunter lifted his head, tossed damp hair out of his face, and made like he was going to move off her.

She tightened her grip on him with a slight frown.  "No."

"Baby," he breathed heavily.  "I'm too heavy."

"No," she repeated, digging in with her nails and heels.

"Minx," he grinned, capturing her lips in a tender, gentle kiss.  He savored her softness, his tongue barely touching hers in a delicate caress, suckling lightly before pulling away.  In defiance of her desire to keep him atop her, Hunter slid from her body, but wrapped his arms around her tightly, and rolled them together to their sides.  He nudged at her thighs with his knee until she parted them and he slid his leg in between so that she had no choice but to raise her injured leg and rest it on his thigh. 

Elevated, and away from the mattress.  Nan felt tears pricking behind her eyes.  "Always taking care of me."

"Always."  Hunter blinked slowly and a gentle smile smoothed out the harsh planes of his face.  "I love you."

She smiled sleepily at him.  "I love you, too." 

He buried his face in the crook of her neck, and closed his eyes, content to hold her as they both drifted back off to sleep.  Just before he succumbed to slumber, she spoke again. 

"Hunter?"

"Yeah, baby?"  He rumbled groggily.

"Happy birthday." 

~<>~

You see through,
Right to the heart of me.
You break down my walls
With the strength of your love.
I never knew
Love like I've known it with you.
       I Have Nothing - Whitney Houston

August 10, 2004 1:26 p.m.
Stamford Memorial Hospital – Stamford, CT 

Hunter didn't bother watching Ellie walk away.  Rather he resumed his pacing.  His nerves were stretched to the point of snapping and Nan had only been in the operating room for a little over two hours, although they'd been at the hospital for almost three.

God!  He ran a hand through his hair again in pure frustration.  He vowed two weeks ago to protect her.  With some further inquiries, and with some information provided by Victoria, he'd found the culprit behind the pictures, and had metered out his own justice, ensuring her safety.  He'd even managed to further his own agenda with Eugene in the process.  William Regal wouldn't forget his warning, delivered two weeks in a row, he was sure. He'd beaten Regal to a bloody pulp.  He grinned for a moment at the pun. 

And he was now set to destroy Eugene at Summer Slam in five days.  It'd be a long, long time before his old friend, or his protégé, even considered going anywhere near them again.

But he couldn't fight this.  He couldn't protect her from her own body.

They'd had right at two weeks worth of normalcy.  Or what passed for normalcy for them.  And this morning, as their plane began it's descent into Stamford Airport, their 'normal' life had all come crumbling down around them.

He dropped into an empty chair and let his gaze wander around the waiting room at the other people who chose to wait this nightmare out with them.  Rosie sat closest to him, calmly flipping though a magazine.  But there was a pinched look around her mouth, and her hands were trembling as she turned the pages on her lap. 

Jericho was on the other side of her, staring off into space.  His leg was bouncing up and down with a rhythm that only he could hear. 

Batista was leaned back in a chair, muscular legs stretched straight out in front of him, his fingers laced across his stomach, and his eyes closed.  Hunter knew the big man wasn't sleeping because every time Rosie made a noise, Hunter saw Dave's eyes open into slits, then close again.  Under different circumstances, Hunter would have ragged on Dave unmercifully about his friend's obvious attraction to his half-sister.  But he couldn't seem to muster up the energy.

Tina sat huddled close beside Hurricane, alternately chewing on or plucking at her bottom lip with her fingernails, a habit that she shared with her aunt.  Hurricane could currently pose for the poster advertising Fright Night, the annual Halloween charity gala that the McMahon's always held at their Stamford home. 

The kid had double blackened eyes, and thick surgical bandages from his recent broken nose.  His face was a bit swollen still.  And of course, there was the green hair.  He had an arm curled around Tina's shoulders, while his hand alternated between stroking her hair and rubbing her back, as silent tears steadily rolled down her cheeks.  Every now and then, he'd reach over and pull her hand away from her mouth, and press a gentle kiss to the side of her head, cradling her against him as she tried not to fall apart. 

It was odd, but he was glad Hurricane was there for Tina, as he had been practically since the moment they met.  Tina needed someone to lean on that she could count on.  And so far, Hurricane, even currently on the injured list, was proving he could be that someone for her. 

Still, Hunter couldn't help but worry a little.  She was so intelligent and so well spoken that sometimes, it was very easy for him to forget that she was only nineteen years old.  And even then, sometimes, she seemed much younger due to how much she'd been sheltered by her family.  Almost to her own detriment. 

She'd graduated high school early, at barely seventeen, having skipped the ninth grade.  And she 'clepped' out of her entire freshman year in college as well.  At nineteen years old, she had only one more year of her education left to go.  Yeah, she seemed to have it all on the ball.  But somewhere in there, she'd lost her way and met, fell for, and moved in with the biggest sack of shit he'd ever met, Chip Davis.  And now here she was, dating Shane 'Hurricane' Helms, and up to her neck in the big bad world of professional wrestling.  It was a wonder her father wasn't shitting gold bricks.  He knew he would be if she were his daughter.  And he saw her almost every day.  Her father didn't.

He shook his head and allowed his eyes to continue their inspection of the people in the waiting room.

Stacy Kiebler chewed nervously on a fingernail.  Her brown eyes were wide and continually darted back and forth between the television mounted on the wall, currently showing a re-run of the Cosby Show, and to where Randy Orton stood leaning against the wall. 

Randy was hunched over a pay phone, the receiver cradled between his ear and shoulder.  Hunter couldn't hear his hushed words, and didn't know who his protégé was speaking with.  But he had a pretty good idea. 

Hunter's gaze moved over and settled on Red Elliott, Nan's father.  The older gentleman sat statue-like in the corner of the room.  After the earlier blow up between he, Red, Naitch, and a very angry nurse, who frankly unnerved the hell out of him, the other two men retired to separate corners of the waiting room.  Red, when he wasn't sitting with his eyes closed, or when made any outward signs of awareness at all, was glaring holes in Ric Flair.

Ric sat in the corner directly opposite of Nan's father, locked into his own private hell.  Hunter didn't know what was going on behind those cold blue eyes of his friend.  And after what the argument between Naitch and Nan's dad had revealed, he wasn't sure if he even cared.  That powder keg wasn't going away anytime soon.  And he had some heavy thinking to do on Ric's role in all of this.  But he couldn't do it now.  He was too worried about the redheaded woman lying just beyond those hated double doors that led somewhere into the heart of the hospital.

She wasn't necessarily a nice person.  She was loud, obnoxious, and sarcastic. She had her own opinions, and had no problems whatsoever letting someone know what she thought on any particular issue.  She was hard to get along with, argumentative, and acidically caustic at times.  She had a wounding tongue and a quick, fiery temper to match her hair.

At the same time, she was the most loving woman he'd ever met.  She'd give the shirt off her back or open her home to a friend in need.  She'd fight to the death to protect her loved ones.  And she'd do it with a song in her heart and a smile on her face, while she sliced and diced the walking corpse who'd hurt that someone she loved.  She was intelligent, quick-witted, and she made him laugh. 

He was an evil bastard. 

Yet despite every vile, depraved, wicked thing he'd ever done, she still loved him.  He was still her knight in shining armor.  Her prince.  He was the one who she turned to to make everything all right.  It was a heavy responsibility.  But one he now was terrified he was going to lose.  Al Snow had been correct all those years ago when he'd said he didn't deserve her, Hunter decided.

But he loved her with all of his shriveled up, black heart.  And, right now, he was scared half-to death that he was going to lose her.  Permanently.

Hunter got up and began to pace again. 

~<>~

I never did believe in miracles,
But I've a feeling it's time to try.
I never did believe in the ways of magic,
But I'm beginning to wonder why.
       You Make Loving Fun - Fleetwood Mac

July 27, 2004 - 3:18 p.m.
Stamford Medical Associates – Stamford, CT 

"Why do you have to wear a paper gown to have your ankle looked at?"  Hunter groused, crossing one foot over another, stretching both legs out in front of him.  He laced his fingers across his stomach and leaned his head against the wall.  His jaw worked rhythmically, steadily, on the hapless piece of gum clenched between his teeth.

Nan grinned as she struggled to get comfortable on the examining table, a virtual impossibility.  She straightened her leg out in front of her with a wince.  She plucked the paper garment off the table and held it up for him, dancing it back and forth in front of her chest.  "Not sexy enough for ya?"

"Nan."  Hunter fixed her with a sarcastic glower.

She rolled her eyes.  "I told you, Hunter.  Dr. Carlton wants to go ahead and get my yearly physical out of the way while I'm here.  That, and it kills time while we're waiting for Dr. Ashby to look at my X-rays, and while we're waiting on Tina."

"But the paper gown…."

"Hunter, a physical for a woman means a complete exam."

He was silent for a moment, then stunned her by asking, "Will they let me stay?"

"I'd rather you didn't."

"Why not?"

It was her turn to stare at him before answering, "I don't think it would be a good idea.  No, hear me out," she stopped him as he looked like he would interrupt.  "Can you honestly tell me you could sit there while another man probes and pokes around in places on me that are reserved only for you?"

Hunter thought about it and finally shook his head.  "No.  I'd make him eat his stethoscope."

At that very moment, Dr. Carlton came in, obviously overhearing that last statement.  His hazel eyes went comically wide.  "Usually patients wait to see my bill before they threaten to make my last meal out of my medical equipment."

Hunter grinned.  "Sorry, Doc."

"It's okay, Hunter.  I remember how you get."  Without explaining that statement, he turned his attention to the woman sitting uncomfortably on the examining table.  "And what have you done to yourself now, young lady?"

Nan turned to Hunter before answering the doctor.  "Hunter, why don't you go on out to the waiting room so when Tina gets through, you can be waiting on her."  At his hesitation, she added, "Please?"

Hunter hissed a beleaguered sigh, and unfolded himself from the uncomfortable chair he'd occupied.  He gathered his leather suit coat and draped it over his elbow.  "Okay.  But I want details on what Ashby says when you see him.  Better yet, call me back in.  Understood?"

"Bully," she grinned, but nodded in agreement.

"Brat."  He cupped his hand around the back of her neck and pressed a kiss to her forehead.  "I'll be out in the waiting room."

Once he was gone, and the door shut firmly behind him, Dr. Carlton spoke up.  "Okay, Nan.  What's going on here?  You just had your gynecological exam a little while ago.  When I said I wanted to test you more regularly than once a year, I didn't mean every two months."

Nan sighed.  "I just told Hunter that to get him out of here.  I wanted to talk to you without him hovering."

Dr. Carlton grinned at her.  "He's a little over-protective, huh?"

She chuckled and nodded.  "Yeah.  It's kind of sweet though."

"In all my years of dealing with the Helmselys, I've never heard anyone ever describe Hunter as sweet.  It must be love." The doctor snorted.  "So, what's on your mind, Nan?  Those new pills working out okay?"

"They're fine I suppose," she shrugged.  "But funny you should bring that up.  I wanted to ask you, based on my current issues, and past history, how definite is it that I can't have children?"

Dr. Carlton noted the reluctant shine of hope in her eyes, and was baffled.  "I'm a little confused.  Why do you think you can't have children?"

"I was told I couldn't."

"When was this?"  He asked with a frown.

"When I was fifteen." 

He shook his head.  "Nan, I've read your medical history and records.  All of them.  No where in your records does it say you can't have children."

"But my doctor back home…."

He held up a hand, cutting her off.  "Considering the medical technology at the time, I'm sure you were told that.  Plus, given your history, it makes perfect sense.  Yet, medical technology now far surpasses what we knew then.  What I'm tell you, Nan, is that your records don't say that you can't."

Her voice was a faint whisper.  "You're sure."

"Positive."  He nodded.  "But even with today's progressions, and with your history, there'll be a lot of risks…."

But she didn't hear him.  Her whole face had lit up, glowing from the inside.  She ducked her head, a soft smile gracing her face as her right hand came up to cradle her abdomen, like she would if she were already expecting. 

He had to strain to hear her whisper.  "Hunter and I can have a family of our own."

"Nan."  Dr. Carlton called to her firmly, but gently.  He waited until she looked up at him.  "Your medical history doesn't say you can't have children.  It says you shouldn't." 

~<>~

Oh think twice, it’s another day for
You and me in paradise
Oh think twice, it’s just another day for you,
You and me in paradise
       Another Day In Paradise - Phil Collins

August 10, 2004 1:42 p.m.
Stamford Memorial Hospital – Stamford, CT 

Tina really didn't know how much more of this she could take.  She'd been on an emotional roller coaster since last night and it was about to push her over the edge.  No pun intended, she fought a burst of hysterical laughter.

Just last night, she'd been in Cleveland, Ohio at the Gund Arena to watch Shane wrestle.  And he'd gotten his nose broken.  For the past two weeks, she'd traveled the circuit with Nettie and Uncle Hunter.  Because Nettie didn't want her staying at the house alone.  Well, that wasn't entirely true.  Granted, her aunt and uncle were concerned about her staying by herself, but their house was in gated community, and came complete with a state of the art alarm system.  And it wasn't like she didn't know how to use a gun if necessary.  Really, Nettie had taught her how herself.  But after the incident, as everyone was calling it, at her old apartment when they'd gone to get her things, it was actually Shane who didn't want her staying alone. 

So she didn't. 

She went on the road with her aunt and uncle, took care of Dixie since Nettie had been confined to a wheelchair since Uncle Hunter's birthday two weeks ago.  God, she still hated thinking about that, knowing how terrified Nettie had been when she'd gotten the news.  But going on the road with them had its benefits.  She'd generally learned everything she could about the WWE and the lives of its employees.  She'd gotten to know Uncle Hunter's friends, Dave, Randy, and Ric.  She'd also met, again, Uncle Hunter's half-sister Rosie.  She really liked the soft-spoken brunette, and was especially grateful to her for loaning her a few articles of clothing that first night until she could get back to Connecticut.  And she liked Rosie's guy too, Chris.  Although, it had been a little weird realizing that her aunt's ex-boyfriend was her Uncle Hunter's half-sister's boyfriend now.  Her eyes narrowed, still wrapping her head around that one.

Yup.  Springer had nothing on her family, she thought with a slight grin.

She'd also met most of the guys on the roster. Not to mention a few of Nettie's friends too.  Edge and his girlfriend Karen.  Al Snow and Stacy, of course, she thought as her eyes slid over to where the young blonde waited, watching Randy on the phone.  She really liked Stacy, too.  That poker game in San Antonio had been a trip, and Stacy and Nettie together were a riot.

And, of course, she'd spent a lot of time with Shane, too.  It was kind of strange how close they'd gotten so quickly.  But it felt right.  She nestled closer to his side, taking comfort in his warmth and presence.

"You okay, darlin'?"

"Yeah."  Tina nodded, wiping at her cheeks.  "Just thinking."

"You do that too much, ya know," he observed, his voice low.

"Sometimes," she agreed.  "Is your head hurting again?"

"Don't you worry about me.  You've got enough to worry about right now.  Want me to get you anything?  A Pepsi or somethin'?"

"Nah.  Grandma'll have something for me when she gets back.  You too, probably."  She sighed.  "Shane?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm…not really up for talking right now.  You know?" 

He wrapped a lean, muscled arm around her shoulders and tugged on her until she slid sideways a bit in her seat.  She leaned her head back against his shoulder and chest, tugging his arm down around her waist so she could twine her fingers around his.  He ran his fingers through her honey-blonde tresses for a moment before adding that hand to hers at her waist.  He ducked his head, pressing his lips to the top of her head, in a light kiss. 

"S'okay, angel," he murmured against her hair, using the pet-name he'd started calling her since the day he'd gone with them to pack up her belongings.  "You go back to thinking.  I'll be here if you need me."

Nodding, she did just that. 

Except for the six days Uncle Hunter and Shane had off in the past thirteen, they'd traveled every day.  In those very fast paced seven days she'd been to Albuquerque, New Mexico; Corpus Christi, Texas; San Antonio, Texas; Poughkeepsie, New York; Trenton, New Jersey; Toledo, Ohio; and Cleveland, Ohio.  And now here she was back in Stamford, Connecticut.  Thank goodness Stamford was only ten or fifteen minutes from Greenwich, give or take.  Because she was exhausted.  Utterly bone-deep and mentally exhausted. 

But none of it had to do with the travelling.  That part invigorated her, excited her and she'd bubble over with good humor.  Nettie had just smiled at her over her perkiness, that indulgent 'ain't she cute' smile she got from her aunt sometimes.  Uncle Hunter and Ric did it too, come to think of it.  Dave envied her energy, so he said.  Randy didn't have a comment, being distracted over his coming title shot against Benoit, the Heavyweight Champion.  And that Bischoff man had said she was weird.  Of course, he'd laughed when he'd said it, but she wasn't sure that she liked him much.  But she liked his girlfriend Lisa just fine.

No, most of her exhaustion was due to today. Grandma and Grampa Elliott had planned to spend the days before Summer Slam with them all, coming up specifically to meet Shane, and so Grandma could be there for Nettie's surgery that had been scheduled for tomorrow.  But then Nettie passed out on the flight back and Uncle Hunter freaked out. So Grandma and Grampa met them here at the hospital, rather than at the house as they'd planned.  Then there'd been the ugly scene between Uncle Hunter, Ric, and Grampa.  She'd never seen Grampa that angry before.  She'd thought he was going to pop a vein when he'd seen Ric.

Her glance strayed back over to where her Uncle Hunter paced, wanting nothing more than to make it okay for him.  He'd been so sweet and strong for her when they'd waited for word on Nettie that day in the doctor's office.  And she just knew this was tearing him apart inside. 

~<>~

Sometimes in our lives we all have pain
We all have sorrow
But if we are wise
We know that there's always tomorrow
Lean on me, when you're not strong
And I'll be your friend
I'll help you carry on
For it won't be long
'Til I'm gonna need
Somebody to lean on
       Lean On Me - Bill Withers

July 27, 2004 - 3:25 p.m.
Stamford Medical Associates – Stamford, CT 

Feeling a little numb, and exceedingly sore from the manipulations of getting her X-rays taken, Tina shuffled down the corridor after her visit with the doctor. Doctor Geiger had been very nice, understanding, gentle, and kind.  A very sweet lady.  But for the life of her, Tina didn't know whether to laugh or cry.  Cradling her abdomen with one hand, she traced the wall with her fingertips on the other, as she walked back to the lobby.  Absently she pushed the door open and walked back into the waiting room, wondering when Nettie and Uncle Hunter would be out. 

"Hey, Squirt.  Over here," Hunter called softly.

Tina gave him a wobbly smile as she crossed the room and sat down on the low couch beside him.  She sat huddled in on herself for a moment.  "Nettie still in with the doctor?"

Hunter nodded, closing the magazine he hadn't been reading.  "Yeah, but I'm going back in when she sees Dr. Ashby."  He noticed her posture and laid his arm on the back of the couch.  He tugged on a wavy, honey blonde lock of hair.  "Talk to me, Squirt."

"Bruised.  But not broken, the ribs anyway," she whispered.

"The eye?"

"Hairline fracture on my cheekbone.  But they can't put my face in a cast.  Nice, huh?"

Hunter sighed.  "And the baby?"

Her head whipped around, her blue eyes wide and frightened.  "How…?"

"Tina, you threw up yesterday at the arena.  You threw up again at the hotel before we left this morning.  You keep cradling your stomach with your hand.  Now, I'm no psychic, but it makes sense to ask."  He curled his fingers around her shoulder and squeezed lightly.  "You know we'll help you if you are."

He left the unspoken question in the air.  Tina stared at him.  "I'm not pregnant.  I've got an ulcer."  She smiled a little weakly.  "But it's Chip's."  To her mortification, her face crumbled and she started to cry.

"It's okay, Squirt.  It'll be okay.  You're safe now," Hunter whispered as he slid over and wrapped her tightly against his side.  He cupped a big hand around the back of her head, sliding it down her hair, in a soothing gesture, as she continued to cry against him. 

She nodded against his shoulder, and mumbled a quiet,  "I've never been that scared in my life."

"We won't let anyone hurt you again.  I promise."

She made some sort of agreeing noise he couldn't decipher. 

"Are you upset?  About…"

Tina sniffed deeply and pulled back just a bit.  She reached over for a box of tissues on the table beside the couch they sat on.  She blew her nose rather noisily, balled up the tissue, and chunked it into the trash.  She retrieved another for her eyes, and slid back up against him, laying her head back on his shoulder.

"I don't know," she whispered.  "A little.  Kinda.  But not.  I shouldn't be, but I sorta wanted it when I thought I was pregnant.  Now, it's kind of a let down.  But at the same time, I feel relieved…God, so relieved.  Uncle Hunter, am I a horrible person to feel this way?"

"No!"  Hunter denied.  "Squirt, you're nineteen.  Being nineteen is confusing enough without adding a baby to the mix.  You're still in college, and you've got your whole life ahead of you.  It's normal to want a baby when you think you're pregnant.  At least I think it is.  I'd be more worried about you if you didn't, 'cuz I know you.  Hey, look at me."

She tilted her head back so she could look up at him, her eyes sad, and a little lost looking.

"Squirt, I think you're a great person.  Your aunt and I love you, and both of us brag on you to whoever will listen.  Way past the point of being obnoxious about it.  And nothing you do is gonna change that, understand?"

She nodded.  "I love you guys, too."

"Damn right you do."  Hunter answered with a grin.  "And if you ever get involved with another sack of shit like Davis, young lady, you tell me immediately.  I'll handle him, personally.  Don't keep it to yourself.  You don't deserve to be treated that way.  No one does.  We clear?"

"Yeah," she sighed.  "I'm just really glad I didn't have to tell Nettie about the pregnancy scare. Can we keep this just between us, Uncle Hunter?  Nettie doesn't have to know, does she?"

"I don't know, Tina.  I don't like to keep that kind of secrets from her.  They always come back to bite you on the ass later."  He frowned down into those big wide blue eyes.

"Please, Uncle Hunter?  I just don't want to hurt her like that.  Especially since I'm not pregnant and considering her history."

Hunter's frown deepened.  "What are you talking…"

"Mr. Helmsley?"  A nurse called from the doorway.  "Miss Elliott and Dr. Ashby are waiting for you."

"Yeah.  Okay.  I'll be right back, Tina."  Hunter commented absently as he got up to follow the nurse back. 

~<>~

Mama, she has taught me well
Told me when I was young
’son, your life’s an open book
Don’t close it ’fore it’s done’
’the brightest flame burns quickest’
That’s what I heard her say
       Mama Said - Metallica

August 10, 2004 1:56 p.m.
Stamford Memorial Hospital – Stamford, CT

"Here you go, honey."  Ellie whispered, snapping Hunter out of his thoughts.  She passed him a cold bottle of water and a pack of peanuts.

"Thanks, Mom." he murmured automatically, then asked quietly without looking up.  "Nothing healthy?"

"Peanuts are healthy, Hunter."

"Fat."

"Protein," she countered.

"Mom…."

"Hunter, shut up and eat." 

"Yes ma'am." 

A deep chuckle caught his attention, recognizing Dave's amused rumble.  Hunter looked over at Ellie as she moved away.  She paused beside the Animal of Evolution and pulled out a container of milk and a package of Oreo's from her purse. 

"Here you go, Dave."

Dave grinned up at her, dark eyes dancing brightly, as he accepted the snacks.  "Thanks, Momma E."

Ellie smiled down at him.  "Such a sweet boy."  On impulse, she leaned over and pressed a quick kiss to the top of his head, before moving on.

Dave met Hunter's eyes, his grin widening, and shrugged.

Hunter grinned back, and couldn't help himself.  "Mom always did like you best." 

~<>~

I can't remember when you weren't there
When I didn't care for anyone but you
I swear we've been through everything there is
Can't imagine anything we've missed
Can't imagine anything the two of us can't do
       Through The Years - Kenny Rogers

July 27, 2004 3:45 p.m.
Stamford Medical Associates – Stamford, CT 

"Osteomyelitis?  What does that mean exactly?"  Hunter asked, a cold knot of dread forming in the pit of his stomach as he looked at the X-rays of Nan's ankle, and leg.  He knew she had a pin in her leg, because she'd told him the first time she went 'ding' through the metal detectors at the airports.  She even had the card to prove it.

But he never expected this.  She had two pins in her femur, one in her tibia, the small bone in the lower leg, and there were lots of lines on the bones of her upper and lower leg, as well as all through her foot, which testified of multiple fractures.  Some minor.  Some really bad.  He wanted to be pissed at her for not telling him.  But he could tell by her coloring, and the tightness around her mouth, that she was terrified.  Her hands were even shaking, and she looked like she was going to cry. 

He suddenly felt like throwing up. 

"Osteomyelitis is infection in the bones," Dr. Ashby explained.  "Often, the original site of infection is elsewhere in the body, and spreads to the bone by the blood.  In Nan's case here, the pin she dislodged due to a chip fracture that she got when she twisted her ankle, most likely, is the cause of the infection.  The pin is old and should have been replaced long before now."

"How…ahem," Hunter cleared his throat.  "How long ago?"

"About five years.  Those pins have to be replaced every few years, as Nan well knows.  And this one was way overdue."

Hunter nodded.  Bobby was dying about that same time.  She probably forgot about it.  Still, she should have told him, long before now.  He'd ream her for it later.  "What are we looking at here, Doc?"

Dr. Ashby turned to Nan.  "That pin has to be replaced.  The problem is, you did sprain your ankle, and with the infection, slicing into it now would be like trying to cut through Jell-O.  Easily done, but it would do more damage than good.  So, I'm going to put you on a new oral antibiotic that should take care of the infection.  And, I'm giving you a strong anti-inflammatory and something for the pain.  We'll schedule you for surgery in two weeks.  Then, we'll clean out any infection that may be left and replace that pin."  He ripped off the sheets of prescriptions and handed them to Hunter.  "She needs to be completely, and I do mean completely, off that foot until after that pin's been fixed.  But I know she won't listen to me."

"She'll listen."  Hunter vowed, with a serious glance towards her.  "How serious is this, Doc?  Long range, I mean."

Ashby sighed and shifted on his little stool, scratching his baldpate absently with the tip of his pen.  Hunter wondered fleetingly if the little man knew he was drawing random patterns on his skull when he did that. 

"I'll be honest with you, Mr. Helmsley," Ashby answered slowly.  "This can be pretty serious.  If the infection is let go without treatment, we're looking at bone death, possible amputation.  Perhaps even blood poisoning.  And yes, this problem, left untreated, can be lethal."

"Shit."  Hunter's nausea intensified, and he lifted a shaky hand to his forehead.  Dr. Ashby began tugging absently on his striped bow tie, then adjusting his bottle-thick wire-framed glasses.  The quirky little doctor was fidgeting and it was making Hunter nuts.  But he was the best orthopedic surgeon in Stamford.

"But there is no reason at all that it should get to that point."  Dr. Ashby reassured him. "I think we've caught this in time.  She just needs to rest and take her medicine."

"I travel with him," Nan spoke for the first time since Hunter entered the examining room, keeping her head down.  He flinched at the tone in her voice.  She looked and sounded…broken.

Dr. Ashby looked back and forth between them and made a suggestion.  "She doesn't have to stay home.  Honestly, she probably shouldn't be alone in case the antibiotics don't have an effect.  I see no reason why she can't go with you, Mr. Helmsley.  But someone has to make sure she doesn't put any weight on her leg.  And notify me immediately if she develops a fever."

"Crutches?"  Hunter offered.

Ashby shook his head.

"No," Nan whispered, refusing to meet anyone's gaze.  "He's talking about putting me back in a wheelchair.  Again."

"Okay, then.  We'll go rent one today."

"It's not necessary."  Nan shook her head, then looked up at Hunter, one lone tear trailing slowly down her cheek.  "I own my own." 

~<>~

All the precious time
Like the wind, the years go by.
Precious butterfly.
Spread your wings and fly.
       Butterfly Kisses - Bob Carlisle

August 10, 2004 - 2:05 p.m.
Stamford Memorial Hospital – Stamford, CT 

Ellie continued passing out sodas, juices, or bottles of water and snacks of all kinds out of the over-sized purse she was carrying.  No one was skipped.  Not even Ric.

"Ric?  I picked up some snacks and drinks for everyone.  You want something?"

Ric lifted his head, his fingers still clasped into a single fist between his knees.  Pale blue, bleak eyes, holding the weight of the world in them, raised to meet hers.  "No thank you, Mrs. Elliott."

Sighing, Ellie sat down beside him, ignoring the cold, disapproving glare from her husband.  Ric turned his face away.  "Ric, this isn't your fault."

"Isn't it?"  He made a bitter sound.  "You may not think so, but they do.  And I'm not so sure I disagree with them."

"Ric, what happened was an accident.  You didn't know she was behind the door.  And she wasn't even supposed to be down there at all.  Yes, she's had lots of complications from that accident ever since.  But never once have I held you responsible."  Ellie explained patiently, and with a bit of bite in her tone that she'd never had the opportunity to do so before now.

"Mr. Elliott does.  And so does Hunter."

"Hunter's your friend.  He just found out about what happened between you two back then.  And right now he's terrified down to the marrow of his bones.  So like a dog with a sore paw, he's snarling and snapping at everyone.  You included.  Sadly, the only person I've ever known to be able to get close to him when he's like this is Nan.  And she's not really able at the moment."  Ellie sighed, allowing her gaze to wander over to her husband, where he sat, blatantly ignoring her. 

"Now Red, he's another thing all together."

"Ain't that the truth."  Ric agreed then met her gaze. 

"He's a father.  And as a father, he has to have someone to blame for hurting his child.  Sadly that means you.  You have children.  I bet you understand his motivations a little."

Ric nodded.  "She wanted to know why I never came to see her.  I couldn't tell her.  So I just didn't say anything.  How am I supposed to tell her that the man she idolizes more than anyone else in the world, is the same man who kept me from seeing her?  And that he still blames me for what happened?  She adores her father."

Ellie laughed softly.  "You tell her the truth.  Yeah, she adores Red.  But she's a grown woman, who has no preconceived heroic notions as far as her daddy is concerned.  She knows he's just a man.  With feet of clay, warts, flaws, a nasty temper, biased judgement, and a blind need to protect, to the point of detriment, when it comes to his family.  Good grief, Ric.  She picked out a man just like him!  Don't tell me you don't see the similarities?"

For the first time, Ric grinned.  "Yeah, I thought about that a lot since I remembered who she was."  But the grin faded.  "That's what hurt her the most, you know.  That I didn't remember her."

"I'd imagine so."  Ellie nodded.  "You were her first serious case of hero worship.  It's a hard landing when you tumble from so lofty a perch as on the pedestal labeled for Price Charming for a seven year old girl."  She dug around in her purse and pulled out a can of Pepsi and a pack of snack crackers, and passed them over to him.  "Eat.  She wouldn't want you to worry yourself sick, I'm sure."

Ric took them from her with a nod.  "She's a lot like you, you know.  Always taking care of the people around them whether they want her to or not."

"Don't be fooled into that line of thinking, Ric," Ellie warned.  "She may look like me and my mother.  And yes, our modes of thinking and mannerisms can be down right eerie in their similarities.  The mothers and daughters in our family have always been like that.  But she's got a lot of her father's personality, too.  He's the real forcibly-nurturing one in this family.  The one that will love, nurture, and protect even if he has to sit on you to do it.  I take people's no's for meaning no.  They don't.  And let me correct you on one other point.  There's only one man who Nan has ever idolized.  Ever.  Her Granddaddy, my father. To this day, she still sees that man as a saint and no one can tell her differently."

Ellie dug deeper into her purse and pulled out her wallet.  She flipped through it for a minute, slid something out of it, and then stood up.  "I kept it hoping I could give this to you some day.  I just wish I could have gotten it to you sooner.  Here."  Ellie pressed an old photograph into his hands and quickly moved away.

Ric nodded thoughtfully as she moved on with her supply of snacks towards her granddaughter.  She was wrong though.  The Nan he knew and the little girl he remembered had a lot more of Ellie in her than the older woman was admitting to.  Maybe she didn't see it.  But that steel spine and staring back into the face of the world no matter what, didn't speak of Red.  No, he saw it in Ellie's face when he was told he was never to see their daughter again without risk of going to jail.  He saw it in Nan's face every time they'd had one of their screaming matches before they'd cleared the air between them.  And he even remembered seeing it on her face the first time he ever laid eyes on the little red-haired holy terror. 

He looked down at the picture in his hands, reading the date written in an elegant cursive hand, on the back.  October 24, 1974.  Curious, he turned the photo over, and felt all the air squeeze out of his lungs.  He wasn't sure, but his heart may have even skipped a beat.  Or ten.  A twenty-six year old version of himself stared back at him.  God, he'd been so young back then.  Just a couple of years older than Orton was now. 

In the picture, he had one arm curled into a flexed pose, his famous "Whooo!" curving his mouth.  His other arm was wrapped around a little girl, perched on his hip.  She was dressed in a white blouse, a plaid school uniform jumper, and one of her black and white saddle shoes was untied.  She was grinning from ear to ear, one tooth missing from the front, a bandage on her chin, and a nice, purplish black eye.  Her hair was copper red, long, and braided into two braids that hung down her back.  And she had a death-lock around his neck.

Ric smiled shakily, and rubbed at his throat, almost as if he could still feel the tightness of her grip on him that day. 

~<>~

Jeremiah was a bullfrog
Was a good friend of mine
I never understood a single word he said
But I helped him a-drink his wine
And he always had some mighty fine wine
Singin'...Joy to the world
All the boys and girls now
Joy to the fishes in the deep blue sea
Joy to you and me
       Joy to the World - Three Dog Night

October 24, 1974  4:15 p.m.
The Harrell Coliseum 

"Yes, Mrs. Suits.  I understand.  I'll speak to her.  I'm sure she won't..." James looked up as the woman was off and running on another tirade about his youngest granddaughter, and her discipline…or lack-thereof, as she was implying. 

Ric Flair stood in the doorway to his office, and James motioned him in and over to one of the chairs in front of his desk.  Once the young man was seated, he turned his attention back to the voice on the other end of the receiver.  "Mrs. Suits…yes.  I understand what you're saying.  And I'll speak with Nanette about this the moment I get off the phone with you.  Just let me ask one question.  Who started the fight?  Ah.  I see.  And who won?  Yes, I suspected as much. Would two days be acceptable to you?  Very well, Mrs. Suits.  Then Nanette will be back at school on Wednesday of next week, with no further punishment from you or your staff.  Do we understand each other?"

James smiled a slow, dark smile that just rolled over his face.  Ric couldn't help but smile in response.  "Because, Mrs. Suits, regardless of what she hit him with, I see neither the reason nor the justice in punishing a little girl for defending herself against an older boy who is at least two years her senior as well as fifteen to twenty pounds heavier than she.  And considering her temper, Mickey Crenshaw, you said I believe, should be grateful that all he has for his trouble is a broken nose and the humiliation of being publicly bested by a little girl.  Yes.  I thought you'd see the logic in that, as well.  Good day, Mrs. Suits."

James replaced the receiver and fixed dark eyes on Ric, who was fighting back laughter.  The corners of James' mouth tilted up in a grin.  "The principal of my granddaughter's school," he clarified as an opening.  "She thinks I'm too soft on my Wadulisi.  I disagree."

Ric smiled.  The man obviously adored his granddaughter, and he knew the look of an indulgent adult when he saw one.  "What about her parents?  Are they too soft on her?"

"No.  Not at all."  The older man shook his head, the motion tossing an almost white braid of hair across his shoulder, testifying to both his age and his Cherokee heritage.  "They run a tight reign on her, like we all do.  Nanette spends most of her after school time here with me, as her father is on the road a good portion of each week, and my daughter stays after school to help tutor some of her students.  So that leaves me to deal with quite a bit of Nanette's disciplinary supervision."

The younger man nodded.  "Mr. Crockett said you wanted to see me before I got ready for tonight's show?"

James Harrell leaned back in his chair.  "Ric Flair.  One half of the NWA's newest Tag-Team Champions.  Congratulations."

"Thank you, sir."

"You have children, Ric?"

Ric nodded.  "Yes, sir.  A daughter."

"How old?"

"Four months."

James laughed, a deep vibrant, thick sounding laugh, surprisingly deep coming from a man of his lank fram.  "Then your fun is just starting, son!  My granddaughter is seven years old.  Today, in fact.  And do you know, when I asked her what she wanted for her birthday, there was only one thing she mentioned to me?"

Ric shook his head, but grinned anyway, getting an idea of what was coming.  James' next words confirmed it.

"She wanted to meet her idol.  The great Ric Flair.  That's what she wanted for her birthday."  James sighed, tenting his fingers under his chin.  "When she first asked, I thought there would only be one hitch.  And that of course would be getting your consent."

"Sure.  No problem."

James held up one finger then continued on.  "But there's now another wrinkle.  Another hitch to take into consideration."

"The fight at school today," Ric surmised.

The older man nodded.  "Exactly."

"But I thought you said she acted in self defense."

"She did."  James agreed.  "But she also showed defiance and lack of respect to her teacher.  I don't allow that.  Read this." He passed Ric a piece of paper. 

Ric took it and quickly read the childish scrawl.  Someone had made her write sentences as a punishment…but obviously James' granddaughter had other ideas.  I will not hit boys.  I will not hit boys.  I will not hit boys. I will not hit boys.  I will hit boys.  I am not sorry! 

Ric couldn't help it.  He began to laugh.  "Boy, she sounds like a real pistol!"

James nodded, fighting back a smile.  He reached down picked something up off the floor from beside him.  He set a badly dented metal Hong Kong Phooey lunchbox on his desk.  "She hit him with this.  She could have killed that child.  So, I decided to leave the decision up to you. I'm sure you can understand my dilemma."

He shook his head.  "Not really, sir.  It's her birthday.  Regardless of what she's done that warrants some sort of punishment, doesn't it being her birthday count for anything?" 

James smiled and stood up.  "I thought you might say that.  Come with me, then.  If you're sure."

Ric shrugged and then grinned.  "I'm sure.  Besides, I really wanna meet this kid."

Nodding, James led the way out of his office and down the hall.  "She's in training rink three.  Ice-skating.  Just a little way down this hall here."

Ric chuckled.  "She really beat up a kid two years older and fifteen pounds heavier, huh?  You can't tell me you're not proud of her for that."

He threw an enigmatic grin over at Ric, who walked by his side and matched him pace for pace.  James sniffed deeply.  "I said nothing of the sort."

Ric's laughter echoed through the empty hallway.

A few minutes later, the two men walked into the back of the audience seating at a skating rink.  The "Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy" by Tchaikovsky blared loudly across the empty arena.  James didn't have to point her out.  Her red hair was like a beacon against the white ice.  They watched in silence for a few minutes as the little girl flew over the ice like she had wings, carving out patterns in the ice with her blades. 

The rink was small enough that Ric had a good view of her, once they made their way down to ring side.  Her face was calm, serene, but her eyes glimmered with concentration.  And one of those eyes was black and blue.  Holding her arms out to the sides, she lifted one foot off the ice into a one-foot glide, kicked out, and jumped right off the ice, tucking that one foot around the other.  She spun around twice before landing on the same blade she'd jumped with, a big smile on her face, her arms still spread out wide.  She leaned backwards so her toes were pointing in completely opposite directions, and relaxed into the move.

"Double-toe loop into a backwards spiral.  Nicely done," her grandfather murmured quietly, although it wasn't necessary over the music.

"She's very good," Ric observed, his eyes never leaving the now spinning figure of the little girl, tucked up tightly into a sit-spin, her braids flying out behind her.  "How long has she been taking lessons?"

"Since she was four."  James answered.  "She's good.  But not very good.  That will come with time, should she keep at it.  But there does seem to be something about her being on the ice that brings out an inner peace that I wish would carry over into the other aspects of her life."

"She's only seven.  Give her time."  Ric commented absently.

"Time."  James harrumphed.  "Time is a luxury.  I only hope I will be allowed to see her grow into womanhood.  She looks so much like my own Angel.  Angelique.  My late wife."  He clarified at Ric's curious expression.  "Nanette's older sister was named for my Angel.  But it is my own Wadulisi who favors her."

"Wadulisi.  You said that before.  What does it mean?"

"It's Cherokee.  It means Honeybee.  A pet name for her."

The men lapsed into silence again, as the little girl once more lifted one foot, preparing for another jump.  But her positioning was different on this one.  Again she kicked out, but this time she threw one arm over her head in a ballerina's pose, and tucked her foot behind her knee, rather than her ankle.  It was a beautiful jump.  She spun around twice high off the ice, practically hanging in mid-air, a look of pure elation on her face. 

But when she came back down, it was no longer beautiful.  In fact it was rather frightening.

Her blade tilted out to the side when it connected with the ice, and she went down like a ton of bricks, face first.  Ric could have sworn the little girl bounced at least twice before her forward momentum slid her over halfway to the wall where they stood watching.  He almost bolted down to the ice when James put a hand on his arm.

She lay there for a moment, then kicked her feet, pitting the ice and sending up a lovely spray in the process.  "Shit!"

Ric almost choked on his tongue.  He looked over at James to see how he was taking his seven-year old granddaughter's verbiage. 

The older man's dark eyes were dancing.  "Well, it was her very first word, you know."  He lifted his head as the little girl bellowed out her frustrations.  He flipped a switch to his right, shutting off the music and immediately yelled,  "Wadulisi!  Watsi na aholi!  A-le ehena ahani!"

All cursing and movements stopped.  Then she answered back, a little more meekly, "Asehi Enisi!"

"What'd you say?"  Ric couldn't help but ask.  "She speaks Cherokee?"

"I said for her to watch her mouth and come here.  She answered, yes grandfather."  James clarified.  "She knows a few words only.  I'm teaching her.  But she understands more than she can speak."

Nodding, Ric watched as the little girl got up off the ice, with a small trickle of blood running down her chin, and skated over to them.  He had to smile as he could see her cursing under her breath with every stroke of her blades on the ice.  When James laughed, he knew the older man could see it too. 

Ric chuckled.  "She's just a regular little ray of sunshine, isn't she?"

"That she is."  James responded dryly.

She skated right up to them, her eyes on her skates.  At the last minute she pulled up short, stopping on the ice with a sideways slide of her blades, and sending a spray of ice up into the air.  And coating the seats next to them with it.

"Wadulisi, what have I told you about using the hockey stop this close to the seats?"  Her grandfather admonished.

Nanette wouldn't look up, fingering the fraying edge of the pocket on her jumper instead.  "Not to."

"And what did I say you'd have to do the next time you did it?"

"Clean out all the seats on the first row."

"And so you shall."  James harrumphed.  "But not today.  Someone's here to see you, Wadulisi.  Mind your manners."

She looked up, and her mouth dropped open.  Her eyes got wide, and she almost fell over.

Ric laughed, extending his hand over the barrier.  "Hey there, Sunshine.  Nice to meet you.  Why don't you come on off the ice, huh?"

She nodded vigorously, and took the hand he offered, a shy smile on her face, as she glided over to where she could walk up into the seats.  Her blades clomped heavily until she scrambled up into a seat where she could take them off.

She struggled with her blade guards and then moved on to her laces, growing a little frustrated as they knotted up under her little fingers.  Grinning, Ric knelt down in front of her and moved her hands aside, working the knots out himself.  James stood back, leaned against the barricade, and watched them, smiling to himself.

"So tell me, Sunshine," Ric began as he slid off one ice skate, and passed it to James before working on the other.  "How'd you get the shiner?"

"Mickey Crenshaw hit me in the face after Genie - she's my bestest friend - an' I tole him ta stop pickin' on Audrey - she's my other bestest friend.  An' Mickey was throwin' dirt on Audrey an' it got in her eyes an' it made her cry.  So Genie tole him ta stop an' he didn't an' Genie said she 'us gonna tell an' he got mad an' he pushed Genie down an' she skint her knees on the rocks.  So I kicked him in the shin an' he hit me!  Then Genie got up an' bit him an' he hit her too!  So I hit him back with my Hong Kong Phooey lunchbox.  Mickey fell down like a hot potato!" 

She cackled with a big grin on her face, mindless of her own blood oozing down from the scrape on her chin.  "Blood went everywhere!  An' he started cryin' an' that made Audrey stop cryin'.  So I said, 'Mickey cries like a baby!' An' then Audrey and Genie started laughin' an' Mickey got up and ran away.  But then Mrs. Suits sent me home.  Genie and Audrey too, I think.  But Mickey hadda stay.  Big ole stupid-head!"  She barely even paused for breath throughout her explanation.

"The three musketeers ride again," James murmured from behind him.  "Genie Bass, Audrey Lane, and my budding kindergarten delinquent.  The scourge of Chesterbrook Academy."

Ric passed him the other ice skate and slipped the small black and white saddle shoes laying nearby on her feet.  "Sounds like a clear cut case of self-defense to me.  You're one tough little lady, Sunshine." 

"Thank you."  She breathed shyly, just remembering who was helping her put on her shoes.  He had just started to tie up one of them when she asked,  "Granddaddy, did I bust my lunchbox?"

"Yes, you did." he nodded, fighting a smile. At her heartbroken look, he added, "But I think we might be able to fix it."

"Hey!  Where's the birthday girl?!"  A new voice called out from the top of the seats. 

A very tall, lanky man loped down the steps, a camera dangling from his wrist.  His short, close-cropped black hair spoke of a military bearing.  Of course, Ric thought belatedly, the blue uniform of the Air Force didn't hurt either.  Nanette whipped her head around so fast, that she smacked Ric in the face with her braids. 

She rocketed to her feet and yelled, "Unca Wesley!"  Mere seconds later she vaulted out of the seat, throwing herself at the man. 

Evidently the newcomer expected her reaction and caught her, swinging her high up into the air then catching her close in a hug.  "How's my girl today?  Huh?  You old enough to date yet?"

Nanette giggled,  "No, silly!  Look, Unca Wesley!  Look!"  She pointed over to Ric.  "Look who came to see me!  That's Ric Flair."

Wesley nodded at Ric, and then his eyes twinkled as he turned to whisper to the little girl in his arms,  "Oh, so I've been replaced, huh?  He's your new boyfriend, then?"

"Nuh-uh!"  She protested, but her face turned beet red.  "You know that John is my boyfriend."

"This week," he added dryly. 

She nodded vigorously.  "Zactly."

"My son often forgets his manners around his niece.  Lieutenant Colonel Wesley Harrell, United States Airforce, may I introduce you to Ric Flair," James looked over at Ric and winked.  "He's a wrestler."

The protest from Nanette was immediate, as he'd known it would be.  "Not just a rassler, Granddaddy.  He's one of the new NWA's Tag-Team Champions!  Whooooooo!"

Wesley laughed, then held out his hand to Ric.  "Nice to meet you, Ric."

"You too," Ric answered with a smile, still laughing over the little girl's enthusiastic correction.

Her uncle turned back to her.  "Looks like you've been in another fight, missy.  Did you win this one?"

"You betcha!"

"Wesley, don't encourage her."

"Dad," Wesley sighed.  "As a member of this family, as well as the one on her dad's side, she's gonna fight.  It's inevitable.  The least she can do is win.  Right, punkin'?"

"Right!"  The little girl nodded, grinning widely, and in so doing stretched out the scrape on her chin.  "Ow!"

"Uh-oh…better get that looked at," Wesley commented.

Ric reached for the first aid kit that was hanging on the barricade just behind him.  "Got a Band-Aid in here I'm sure."

Wesley set her down, and she walked gingerly back over to Ric.  After rummaging around for a moment, he pulled out some antiseptic cream and the promised Band-Aid.  She stood very still while he cleaned up her chin, applied the cream and bandage.  She surprised him by wrapping her arms around his neck and hugging him tight. 

"Thank you," she whispered as she pulled away.

"You're very welcome, Sunshine."  Ric smiled and kissed her cheek, sending her into another fit of blushes and giggles. 

"Okay, you two!"  Wesley called out.  "Smile for the camera!"

Ric scooped her up, and planted her on his hip, the laces from her one untied shoe dangling down.  She wrapped both arms around his neck, and he curled his left arm up into a biceps flex.  "Okay, Sunshine, gimme a whoo on three!  One…two…Whoooo!"

But she didn't say whoo.  Just before the camera's flash went off, he felt her tighten her grip, and whisper, "I love you, Ric Flair." 

~<>~

I don't know how you do what you do
I'm so in love with you
It just keeps getting better
I want to spend the rest of my life
With you by my side
Forever and ever
Every little thing that you do
Baby, I'm amazed by you
       Amazed - Lonestar

August 10, 2004 - 2:17 p.m.
Stamford Memorial Hospital – Stamford, CT 

Nerves stretched to the fraying point, Hunter was up and pacing again.  And this time, he was practically rumbling in the intermittent growls the came from the depths of his chest.  He was going crazy with the endless waiting.  His brain had become a virtual battle zone of memories, feelings, and fears.  And the fears were winning.

Now he knew how Nan must feel every time she had to wait him out in the emergency room.  He didn't know how she stood it.  This was only his second time waiting for her, and the first had only lasted a few minutes before he'd been allowed back in with her.  But this was different.

This…was hell.

And there was Country music playing in it. 

Someone had changed the channel on the television mounted to the waiting room wall to the Country music video station.  Hunter hated…no, loathed…Country music.  Nan loved it.  Well, some of it.  Most of it, in truth.  So did her father.  And if memory served him correctly, Stacy had a fondness for the twanging crap too.

He tried to tune it out.  Stop up his ears.  But the words made it through anyway.

The smell of your skin
The taste of your kiss
The way you whisper in the dark

Hunter paled, stopping short in his pacing, right in the middle of the waiting room.  He felt like he'd taken a punch to the gut.  He knew that song.  Very well.  He closed his eyes, crushing the heels of his hands against them, pressing them painfully back into his skull.  But he couldn't force the images away.  They came regardless.

Your hair all around me
Baby you surround me
You touch every place in my heart
Oh, it feels like the first time, every time
I want to spend the whole night in your eyes

The smell of honey and almonds.  The satiny slide of peaches and cream skin against his palms.  The breathy glide of soft laughter and the blood boiling mewlings pulled from a deliciously tempting throat. 

Every little thing that you do
I’m so in love with you
It just keeps getting better
I wanna spend the rest of my life
With you by my side
Forever and ever

Orange glow of the firelight turning coppery hair into burnishing flames around her face, over sweet shoulders, and mouth-watering breasts.  Dark eyes dilated with desire.  His name on her lips, parted in invitation.  His arms wrapped around her, wishing those three days could last forever.  Their first night together.  This same song playing softly in the background.

Every little thing that you do
Oh, every little thing that you do
Baby I’m amazed by you.

He couldn't stand here and listen to this song.  Not with her under some surgeons' knife.  Not knowing if she would…thinking she might…that she might not…

"I'm gonna take a walk," Hunter announced to the room at large, before spinning on his heel and striding from the room like the devil himself was prodding him out the door. 

~<>~

August 10, 2004 - 2:21 p.m.
Stamford Memorial Hospital – Stamford, CT 

He watched Hunter leave, clamping down on his own hands, to prevent their shaking.  Hunter thought, when he'd beaten William Regal bloody two weeks running that he'd found and stopped the person responsible for sending those pictures back before Wrestle Mania. 

But he hadn't.  The Game had destroyed the wrong man.

And he swore to himself as he looked around the waiting room, that, if possible, Triple H would never discover just how wrong he'd been. 

To be continued……..

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